


Gods and Monsters

by Saidani



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, So-gosh-damn-angsty, Songfic, angsty, fallen!cas, pre-2014!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saidani/pseuds/Saidani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has fallen.</p><p> Fallen because he did all he could to help Dean and his brother, fallen because he never really thought he couldn't handle the consequences.<br/>But being human is too much: he needs to be numbed. And Dean is his perfect drug; he is Cas' poison, his enemy and his friend. He's the focal point of a brand new heaven Cas has created. A heaven of fallen stars, broken glass and just the slight possibility of being redeemed if he could only say the right words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first crack at a Supernatural fic, but not my first fanfic. I've been on a few years break from serious fanfic writing so be gentle, I'm still getting back into the swing of things. 
> 
> I was listening to the Lana Del Rey song, Gods & Monsters, and a few of the lyrics just screamed at me to write a little short piece with angsty!Cas. So I did. At 3:15 in the morning. All lyrics used are part of the song, though I did cherry pick them so they are not necessarily in the right order. Go listen to it; it's a great song. 
> 
> No beta used so any mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out so I can fix them.

*** 

**You got that medicine I need,**

**Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly.**

**Put your hands on my waist, do it softly,**

**Me and God we don’t get along, so now I see...**

Neither of them knew what they were doing at first; nor did they care. The thought of what Cas wanted from this was lost, was told only through kisses against Dean’s skin when he was pushed against a wall after a hunt and taken like the purest form of drug. And that was what it was: Dean was straight out used. Held close, rolled over Cas’ tongue to savour the taste until the high ended and the taste went stale. 

He was a high that Cas swore —privately— was as close to Grace as humankind have ever managed. To know Dean Winchester was to know the most debauched heaven. 

Of course, he was Dean Winchester and that came with a price. Human, friend— (Lover? Cas didn’t want to think of that last one. Lover implied something lasting. Nothing lasted, of that he was fairly certain. If things were meant to last then he would still be angel. He wouldn’t have fallen.) — it all meant that he was someone who had been with Cas since he first entered the barn after being summoned.

He _knew_ Cas. Better than any human alive. He could tell was Cas were drowning. 

(Cas couldn’t think of the angels, his brothers, that had left him along with his wings. Needed to be numbed to that. Took another hit of Dean whenever the thoughts of why he was abandoned by both family and friends swirled about his mind, the sense of betrayal piercing through every other thought like a comet through a night sky.)

**Motel, squeeze, squeeze, and I’m singing:**

**"Fuck yeah give it to me, this is Heaven, what I truly want."**

**It's innocence lost.**

“Dean.” Always soft hisses, barely verbal pleas. Dean always there to trail more kisses, to twist his hand at just the right angle to catch the pleasure thrumming through Cas’ borrowed — _mine now_ — body, leave him falling through space with no wings to catch his fall. Leave him falling through ecstasy until Dean’s lips caught the pieces, swallowed them down.

If Dean was the drug, Cas the junky, then pillow talk must be the price. The rot that rattled through Cas’s brain to leave him a numb mess. Unable to form a coherent sentence, fingers shaking, body tense. Looking for another hit. 

“Chick-flick,” Cas would mutter when Dean attempted something more tender, a dark curse that made Dean flush every time, words choked off. It was a harsh reminder that everything he had learned came from the Winchesters and Winchesters did not talk emotions.

**In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel,**

**Lookin' to get fucked hard.**

Talk would cease. Added to Cas’ already un-payable tab. Forgotten for now. He would roll over, press Dean into the sticky mess of the first desperate coupling of the night.

Roll his hips along him, let a breathy moan slip into the night— show him just what you need. Reach back to see —check?— that Dean was enjoying this as well, found some pleasure in Cas’ darkness, in his new heaven of broken glass scattered among fallen stars. 

_Sharp shards of glass and stars; careful when you reach. So many pretty points waiting to slice. Pretty perfect globe of blood blossoming on your finger and, quick, lick away the pain. Drown in the blood that now governs his body and life, his duration on this forsaken planet._

**You got that medicine I need**

**shoot it up, straight to the heart, please.**

It would reach midnight. Desperation growing instead of being sated by the salt he licked from Dean’s lips, from his chest, jaw— everywhere. Need spiking through him, chased by something too powerful for Cas to name. He didn’t know each ingredient that went into making Dean, wasn’t sure of the method behind creating his drug. Once, he would think as Dean thrust into him, voice at fever pitch as the haze settled in for the long run; once, he knew how to make him. Knew every little atom of Dean. Knew each freckle as if he were the one who painted them first, like he wasn’t merely some copycat artist trying to paint perfection and ending up with something just a little crooked. 

_“Fuck, Cas.”_

He was pushed onto his side, Dean following, never pulling apart, pressed deliciously down into the mattress. Getting what he wants now, climbing steadily towards the clouds he fell from as Dean found his stride. 

“Mine.” He would whine, or so he thinks. Too far gone to know what falls from his lips when he is on his high. Won’t have enough piece of mind to find out when he comes down. “Mine, Dean, always mine—fuck.” A long, drawn out moan. Hips stilled. Breaths held. Dean buried in his neck, in his body. 

That element, that feeling, the sharp edge to this high, it flares. Overrides Cas; chest until his heart is about to give out. He chokes. Wants to say something, anything. Not sure of the words. 

“I know, Cas. I do too, you know that, right?” 

Know what? There was so much Cas didn’t know. He wanted to know this, though. Thought that maybe if he could say the words that got stuck in his throat every time that he would be pulled free of the depression, the angst at his position as human. If he could say those words Dean would be given the green light to do whatever it took to save him. 

After a while he gave up trying. The words died. Blackness took over; he was numb.

**I don't really wanna know what's good for me.**

Heaven. 

Cas has found a heaven of glass, drugs, stars and Dean Winchester. 

It is only found it in the dirty motels of American highways. Never achieved anywhere else. 

Later, it would crash. Later the fragile Heaven Cas carved for himself would drop to show the surrounding Hell. Later Dean would try again to talk about it. Try to give him help, offer to teach him the ropes of how to live as a human in a world of doubt. Later Cas would realise that the words he had been looking for were "I love you." That those words would have pushed Dean to do whatever it took to save him, to include Cas within the small group of people Dean loved without restraint and not keep him locked in the uncertain category of people who Dean _wanted_ to love but wasn't sure if he would be allowed to. Instead, he would only offer to teach Cas what it meant to be human.

One day Cas would roll over, his smile not right. Too sharp, too focused for one still hooked. One day he would pluck among the stars and pick up a shard of glass. And he would bring it down in Dean’s heart. Twist until blood was all they saw.

“I think you’ve ‘taught’ me enough, Dean. I’m like this because of what you taught me. I don’t want to see what new level of Hell you can take me to. Just leave me alone, give me what I want and shut up about it.” 

And Dean would have no argument. He’d give Cas another fix, and another and another until his now-human body became immune. No worry, though. 

Cas still had a way to fall. 

Rock bottom called. He tumbled after it.

**God's dead, I said, "Baby that's alright with me."**


End file.
